


Shattered Glass

by BlaiddGwyn (dragonLeighs)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Injured Jaskier | Dandelion, Injury, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, the violence isn't too graphic but there is a bar fight and Jaskier gets stabbed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonLeighs/pseuds/BlaiddGwyn
Summary: Jaskier gets a bad feeling about the town they're staying in. He ignores it and plays in the tavern for their room. Turns out he should've trusted his instincts.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 173





	Shattered Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting half finished for at least a month. I didn't know how to end it so hopefully it's ok but it's basically pure whump.

After days on the road, Jaskier had been looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed. Sure, sleeping outside with Geralt was fine but he could only take the hard, uneven ground for so long before his back started to ache almost constantly. He knew Geralt didn’t like stopping in towns too often. He claimed it was because of the money but the bard knew it was more to do with the people and their bigotry.

His songs had managed to transform the witcher’s reputation from butcher to hero but that didn’t always mean he was welcomed everywhere. Many towns located further away from cities in remote areas still looked at him with fear and disgust. It seemed this was one such place.

Upon their arrival to the small town they had been greeted with stares. There was the occasional muttered insult thrown their way, but they were both used to ignoring such things. At first Jaskier had tried to fight everyone who dared insult the witcher but after a particularly nasty bar fight in which he had managed to fracture at least two ribs, Geralt had made him promise to stop.

They had found the town’s only inn, secured Roach in the stable and gone inside to ask for a room. Geralt left Jaskier to do the talking, finding his presence was already unwelcome. Jaskier had had to do quite a bit of negotiating with the inn keeper as he initially wanted Geralt out of his establishment. Only after Jaskier promised to play for the evening and hand over a cut of his earnings did he allow them to stay. Grateful to have an actual bed to sleep in and a roof, the bard had accepted.

Now they sat at a rickety table, eating their meagre meals. For once Jaskier was quiet, largely due to all the hostile stares they were attracting. Jaskier was dreading having to perform. A lot of the men looked like they could easily do some serious damage if things suddenly went to shit. He was stalling by eating as slow as possible. Geralt of course had noticed his mood. “We don’t have to stay here if you feel unsafe.”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Besides, we’ve already spent half our coin and I doubt the inn keeper would be willing to give it back.”

Shortly after, the inn keeper approached their table in the corner, a sour expression on his face. “If you want to stay, you’d better start singing bard,” he said in a rough voice.  
Despite his nerves, Jaskier flashed the man one of his brightest smiles. “Of course, just give me a moment to set up.”

He picked up his lute case and went to stand in the middle of the room. He took out his lute and gave it an experimental strum to check it was still in tune. He decided against calling everyone’s attention to him and instead started playing. He was careful to avoid songs about witchers, despite them usually bringing in the most coin.

As the night wore on all seemed to be going well. A few people clapped and sang along to the songs they knew and overall, the atmosphere lightened up a little. Jaskier was beginning to wonder why he had been so nervous before.

Of course, the good mood couldn’t last. Someone in the audience, a young man by the sound of his voice, although Jaskier couldn’t see him, requested Toss a coin. Immediately one of the large men who had been sitting against the far wall stood up, swiftly followed by two others.

“No one will be singing the praises of a fucking mutant in this town,” he practically shouted, slurring slightly with the alcohol in his system. The room went silent. Jaskier kept his gaze fixed on the men, resisting the urge to retort, knowing full well it would only make the situation worse. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Geralt tense, ready to spring into action should he be needed.

The large man stalked up to Jaskier who found his usual silver tongue had abandoned him. He stumbled over his words, trying to placate the man. He was met with a large fist connecting with his face. He fell to the floor, dazed. There was a slight ringing in his ears which quickly dissipated to be replaced with the sounds of a fight.

He scrambled to his feet, trying to get to the nearest wall so at the very least he couldn’t be attacked from behind. Something was thrown in his direction but missed, smashing the window next to him instead. He tried to look for Geralt, but his view was obscured by the sheer mass of bodies crowded into the room.

Someone stumbled out of the crowd. One of the men who had been standing by the one who punched him. He locked eyes with Jaskier and went to punch him. Jaskier raised his lute and smacked him in the head. He fell to the floor with the shock of the impact but quickly recovered. He grabbed a large shard of glass and brandished it like a dagger.

He swiped at Jaskier’s neck, then chest, the bard managing to dodge both times. He swung his lute again, but the man caught it in his grip and wrenched it free. Jaskier suddenly felt very exposed. The man slashed at him again, this time leaving Jaskier with nowhere to go. The bard raised his arms to block the glass, causing twin lines of pain across his forearms. Much to his dismay he found himself backed up into a corner.

The man lunged at him again. Jaskier was too slow to react. The man stabbed him with the glass in the gut with a grin of satisfaction. It left him winded as his mind tried to comprehend the pain. It was like a punch but sharp, the glass cutting deeper with every small movement. The man left him to re-join the main fight.

Jaskier sank to the floor, his legs failing him. He tried to press down on the wound like Geralt had shown him before but only succeeded in cutting his hand as the pain intensified.

He must have passed out because the next thing he knew he was on Roach, galloping through the trees. He was sat in front of Geralt, one of his large arms holding him upright, his hand keeping pressure on the wound. His front was soaked and sticky, presumably with blood. The constant movement of Roach was excruciating. He tried to ask where they were going but only succeeded in a weak groan.

“Are you awake?” the witcher asked.

“Yeah,” was all Jaskier managed.

“Good, try and stay that way.”

They travelled in silence, the only sounds were Roach’s hooves on the dirt and Jaskier’s ragged breathing. Eventually the bard’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Whe’re we goin’?” he mumbled. If it weren’t for Geralt’s enhanced hearing, he probably wouldn’t have heard him at all.

“Yennefer,” came the gruff reply.

Jaskier didn’t ask how he knew where Yennefer was. He was surprised to find the idea of seeing her didn’t fill him with dread. He knew she was a damn good mage, even if healing wasn’t her specialty.

He slipped into unconsciousness a few times throughout the night. Each time he woke, it was to Geralt calling his name. He felt himself grow weaker by the hour, less able to keep his eyes open, let alone on the words Geralt was probably saying based on the rumble of his voice behind him.

Eventually they came to a cottage just as the sun was beginning to rise.

“Yennefer!” Geralt shouted before Roach had even come to a stop, his voice echoing off the surrounding trees. Once Roach stopped, he carefully dismounted, making sure Jaskier remained as still as possible. He always kept a hand on him as he moved before ever so carefully pulling him out of the saddle. The flare of pain was enough to temporarily pull him out of his drowsiness and he let out a scream.

They were halfway to the door when Yennefer came out. It was clear she had been sleeping. She was wearing an elegant but simple nightdress and her face was bare of makeup. “Geralt? What’s going on?”

“Jaskier’s been stabbed with some glass. I left it in to slow the bleeding but it’s been a few hours now. I think it pierced his liver.”

Jaskier was somewhat startled by the news. He hadn’t really thought about his injury much beyond how much it hurt. “Wha-?”

“Get him inside, on the table,” Yennefer said, gesturing for the witcher to follow her inside. He placed Jaskier on the table in the surprisingly large kitchen, causing yet more whimpers of pain. Yennefer immediately began examining the area. “You’re lucky bard. The glass seems to have remained intact. It does seem to have penetrated your liver though.”

“Fuck,” he said, almost unconscious once more.

He drifted again until something was pressed to his lips. “Drink this,” came the curt instructions. Jaskier found he didn’t have enough energy to resist, even if he wanted to. He managed a few sips before he choked as the liquid was poured down his throat. His mind became hazy once more and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

What must have been hours later he woke to sunlight and a warm hand holding his. He opened his eyes and found his witcher sitting by the bed he was currently occupying. He tried to say something but only managed a tired hum.

“Jaskier,” he said, attention focused entirely on the bard. “Next time I suggest leaving somewhere, we’re leaving.” Jaskier found that hard to argue with. He managed a tired smile before trying to speak again.

“How bad is it?” he murmured.

“You lost a lot of blood, but Yennefer managed to stop it. Your liver should be able to repair itself and you’ve got a few stitches. She said you can travel again in a few weeks.”

“Will it scar?” he was more curious than anything.

“Yes.”

Jaskier found he wasn’t too bothered by that. Afterall, he could make up a good story about it if anyone ever asked. He closed his eyes again and let himself slip back into unconsciousness. He was out of danger now and his witcher was watching over him. He could rest for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://blaidd-gwyn.tumblr.com/)


End file.
